


Best-Laid Plans

by YaYaSestrahood



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, propunk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaYaSestrahood/pseuds/YaYaSestrahood
Summary: Sarah plays a dangerous game.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_other_lutece_sister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_other_lutece_sister/gifts), [piggy09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/gifts).



What was it they said about the best-laid plans? Whatever it was, it didn’t matter here, in the wake of one of Sarah’s more stupid plans. How else could this have ended? Locked away in a windowless room, completely empty save for an uncomfortable-looking metal chair in the center. She knew this was a huge organization, but a room like this could only have been Rachel’s idea. A room with no other function but to watch someone squirm. Sounded about right. God, she hated her.

She guessed it’d been about half an hour now, though she could only guess: they’d taken her phone, obviously. Again, it had to be Rachel’s idea, keeping her waiting like this. Like there could be anything more pressing to her than Sarah Manning turning up out of the blue. _Bullshit._ If the intent was to make Sarah angry, then it was working.

She paced back and forth across the room, seething. She hated how big the room was, nothing but concrete and cold tile. She hated the _fucking_ chair. No way in hell was she sitting in that chair, that was for damn sure. Sitting meant letting Rachel win.

Finally, seconds away from hurling that chair across the room, she heard the growing echo of heels clacking against the floor. Unconsciously, she found herself straightening her clothes, then bringing her hands up to her hair. Or… _wig_.

_Oh. Right. The wig._

Part of Sarah’s plan had involved her impersonating Rachel. So, here she was. Trapped. About to come face-to-face with Rachel. _Dressed as Rachel._

“Shite."

A guard entered first. Then, seconds later, she appeared, all in black. Sarah wore white. She wondered briefly if maybe Rachel had changed once she’d heard what Sarah was wearing. That sounded like something she’d do.

Her eyes were on Sarah in an instant, a smirk creeping onto her face.

“You’ve cleaned yourself up, I see.”

Sarah’s jaw clenched. She was hit with the sudden and powerful urge to shove Rachel’s head into the wall. But she wasn’t about to let her know that.

“Yeah, another Rachel. Must be like bloody Christmas to you.”

Rachel offered a lazy laugh in response. She approached slowly, deliberately. Her heels were war drums, deafening in all the empty space between them. Each tap of her cane brought Sarah back to that night…

Then, she stopped. Her eyes fell, then rose again, taking in every inch of her new prisoner. _Her prey._

It was only when Sarah felt a tightness in her chest that she realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Leave us,” Rachel said, after an eternity.

The guard did as he was told, the door clicking loudly behind him. Sarah’s eyes rolled so hard, she made herself dizzy. _Of course_ she couldn’t have just told him to wait outside in the first place. She had to make a big show of it. Always so infuriatingly dramatic.

“So,” Rachel spoke. “Here you are again. Still trying to pass yourself off as someone else.”

“I’m damn good at it,” Sarah spat, defensive. “Fooled your little boy toy. Gave him the best night of his life.”

She had to remind herself it was only half-true to keep from gagging. Rachel was smiling though, unfazed.

 _She’s winning_ , Sarah realized.

Frustrated, she moved to take off the wig, only to feel something catch her wrist.

“Leave it on,” Rachel growled.

Sarah slowly, cautiously, lowered her arm.  Rachel’s eyes were hungry on hers.

“You get off on this or sommat?” Sarah asked disbelievingly. “You’d shag your own reflection if you could.”

She cleared her throat, slipping into her ‘Rachel’ voice.

“Lay your hands wherever you like,” she cooed, mocking.

“I should think it would be a thrill for you as well,” Rachel said. “Being anyone who isn’t Sarah Manning.”

Sarah bit at her lip, searching for a comeback. Her mind went blank when she felt the tip of Rachel’s cane brush her ankle.

“You can’t completely hide her away though, can you?”

It glided up her calf, past her knee. Her heart pounded against her chest.

_She could stop this._

_She should stop this._

“Not from those who know where to look,” Rachel whispered. She had leaned in close. Her breath was hot at Sarah’s ear.

The cane caught the hem of her skirt, dragging it upward. Higher. _Higher._

 _Fuck_ , Sarah mouthed.

“Not from those who have made her bleed.”

Pain shot through Sarah’s body as Rachel pressed down, sharp and sudden, into her thigh. Into the scar that hadn’t fully healed.

“ _There she is_ ,” Rachel purred.

Sarah’s knees buckled. She batted the cane away and stepped back, nearly falling over. The air felt like needles in her throat as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Why don’t we end this charade, Sarah?”

Sarah grit her teeth, furious, as she cast her eyes back toward her. Her hands were clasped over the top of her cane. Her eyes were half-closed, bored. Impatient. Like Sarah was wasting her time.

She could probably pick up the chair and beat Rachel’s head in before anyone could stop her.

“The hell are you talking about?” Sarah spat.

“This was reckless, even for you. You come to me through the front door. Alone. Unarmed.”

Sarah swallowed hard. Her head felt swimmy. She was at the cliff’s edge and couldn’t see the bottom.

“It’s as though you were looking to be caught.”

Time seemed to stop in that moment, in that heavy silence. The air between them crackled with something powerful, waiting to ignite.

“Am I wrong?” Rachel asked.

Sarah sprang forward, sealing Rachel’s lips with hers. She melted into her too easily, like Rachel had been waiting for it, like she’d fallen into her trap, but she didn’t care anymore. She needed to make Rachel feel it, all the months of fear and desperation and _hate_ … God, she hated her.

Their hands snaked around each other, Sarah’s at Rachel’s neck, Rachel’s in Sarah’s hair. The wig fell to the floor, forgotten.

They weren’t supposed to fit together this well. This was supposed to feel like a mistake. But Sarah needed it. She needed _more_.

Her hand trailed its way down, searching. She grinned into Rachel’s lips as she found the top of her skirt. Desperately, she slipped her hand inside.

_Crack._

Rachel struck hard and fast. Sarah’s eyes fluttered open and closed, reeling. Half her face stung sharp.

“Don’t forget the position you’re in,” Rachel hissed. Her nostrils flared. Sarah could hear the rise and fall of her chest.

Sarah laughed. She’d just made out with her nemesis, and it was _good_. What else could she do but laugh?

“Right,” she said. She turned and slowly made her way over to the chair. She sat down.

“Come on then.”

She leaned back in her seat, slipping her hands behind her into invisible cuffs. _Exposed. Vulnerable._

“What are you gonna do to me?” she asked, lacing her voice with mock-fear, a good cover for the actual fear she was feeling.

Rachel looked her over for a moment, a sneer slowly forming on her face.

She took a step forward.


End file.
